


Thoughts of the Future

by QuickSilverFox3



Series: Whumptober 2019 [29]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Character Study, F/F, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Morrigan (Dragon Age), Pre-Relationship, Whumptober 2019, Zevran and Morrigan bitch about other members of the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 23:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21243482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Morrigan wasn’t meant to get attached. She wasn’t meant to like these people.Flemeth told her what to expect from the outside world, had told her stories of the wandering bands of Templar’s who stole in their woods when Morrigan was younger, had told her stories of cities so busy that your very soul would rot in your chest.-Morrigan thinks about the future, and thinks about the Warden.





	Thoughts of the Future

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!

Morrigan wasn’t meant to get attached. She wasn’t meant to _like_ these people.

Flemeth told her what to expect from the outside world, had told her stories of the wandering bands of Templar’s who stole in their woods when Morrigan was younger, had told her stories of cities so busy that your very soul would rot in your chest.

She hadn’t mentioned this.

Their campfire light was the only beacon against the ever-encroaching darkness. The night was still and silent save for the distant noises of creatures scuttling through the undergrowth, the soft wingbeats of owls and bats passing high overhead as they hunted, and the noises from their camp.

Leliana hummed under her breath, voice carrying as clear as a bell over to Morrigan's part of the camp. It was a wordless tune, ever evolving the more she practiced it although no-one but her knew the meaning behind it. Her tunic was littered with tiny scraps of feathers as she re-fletched her arrows, stabbing the completed products into the ground next to her, an ever-growing forest of her own creation.

Alistair was unmistakeable, the eye drawn to him despite herself. He was boorish and uncouth, a child acting like a man, and yet there was something about him that was indescribable. Morrigan disliked him, her lip curling whenever he was near, but he could match her venomous tongue with no grudges held and a stupid smile on his stupid face. It was... Nice.

Sten was impassive, a great shadow against the moon hung low in the sky. He was almost impossible to read, face as blank as a stone most of the time. He held dangerous attitudes towards magic to be sure, but so did many Fereldans, it was of no major consequence. She knew he would follow the Warden to the ends of the earth, had seen the look in his eyes when the elf had returned his sword, the blade almost as tall as she was with a huge grin on her face. Even as she watched, he stretched down to run one hand along the back of Tabris's huge mabari.

That dog... Tabris loved the slobbering creature. She would sit for hours in the evening with it resting his head on her lap, one dextrous hand, accustomed to wielding daggers or lockpicks, scratching behind his ears. He was a strangely charismatic animal, and Morrigan couldn't help but be fond of the mutt, even if he did root in her bags for biscuits.

Oghren on the other hand. Loud and brutish and stinking of ale, everything Flemeth warned her that men were like. Disgusting. And yet... He laughed too loud, quick to brush away any hint of the lingering sadness she saw in his eyes, using the rage buried just below the surface against the darkspawn. He still loved Branka, a woman who didn't love him, who loved another woman (and wasn't that a strange idea, and not an unpleasant one?). He was a pest, but a strangely positive one. If she strained, Morrigan could just the edge of him as he swayed, already half drunk.

Wynne however was an annoyance. She caught the woman's face turned towards her and felt a snarl appear on her face, lip curling to reveal her teeth. It was more effective when she in an animal form, but it made her feel better. She was insufferable, smothering Chantry words wrapped up in the guise of kindness and, even after all of her lectures, she was harbouring a spirit. The very thing that her Circle would kill her for. She was a confusion and set Morrigan on edge with her ever watchful eyes. But she was competent with magic, her talents in the healing arts far exceeding Morrigan's own, and for that she was grateful.

Shale was an enigma, manging to put so much amusement into her words, despite the never changing nature of her face. She was persistent in a way Morrigan hadn't been expecting with her sharp words and uncaring attitude scaring off almost all of those who wished to pester her. It didn't work on the golem, and nor did it work on Tabris. Shale appeared to be resting now, face turned slightly to the sky as she 'watched' the slow passage of clouds across the moon, the crystals growing from her back giving off a faint green glow.

"Who is the target of your attention tonight hmm?"

Zevran. There he was.

"Not you," Morrigan answered as the elf hopped up onto the fence beside her, ignoring the half-hearted glare she sent his way, out of sheer habit rather than malice. He had grown on her, his incessant chatter and seeming disregard for his own life offering some small joy in her day. She would never dream of telling him that, but he still actively sought out her company, telling her once she reminded him of growing up in Antiva.

Morrigan had been verging on being actually insulted before he explained the women he had grown up with where strong minded and very independent despite their circumstances. Her acid words helped quell his homesickness for a while, and he was, rarely, very rarely, helpful.

"Aren't you going to go and bother your Grey Warden and leave me alone?"

"Why? Ah, so you can brood over your Warden hmm?"

Morrigan turned on him, fury flashing through her like wildfire. She would not be insulted-

"Peace, Morrigan, peace," Zevran laughed, hands held up and fingers splayed, empty, not a threat, "I see how you look at her, and how she looks at you."

"You've been spending too much time with Alistair," Morrigan scoffed, her magic trickling away like sand through her fingers, a conscious relaxation. She could see the fading red of bite marks on Zevran's neck, noticed the slight limp as he walked.

"Maybe so, but I am not blind. Just think about it, yes?"

And with that, Zevran swung himself back over then fence and was halfway back towards the main campfire before she could form a reply.

Ridiculous. Stupid elf.

Morrigan stared down at Tabris. The elf, sensing her gaze, looked back, face creased into a smile, one hand stretched up in a wave Morrigan did not return.

Flemeth warned her of the dangers of men and of the big cities, of darkspawn and of templars. She never warned Morrigan about elves with wide crooked grins, and eyes as green as the Fade.

Morrigan knew what she had to do.

If only she could be as numb as Flemeth wanted her to be, then maybe considering the future wouldn't hurt so much.


End file.
